


When Life Gives You Lemons…

by stjarna



Series: Season 6 spec fics [9]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Family Bonding, Feels, Fitzsimmons background, Gen, canon-compliant MCD implied, feels with happy end, fitzsimmons family, season 6 spec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 10:29:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16116545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Fitz decides to pay his grandson a visit.





	When Life Gives You Lemons…

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AGL03](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGL03/gifts).



> Big thank you to @lilsciencequeen and @dilkirani for the beta.
> 
> Quickly thrown together and somewhat illegible banner by me.
> 
> For @agl03 because she always longs for Fitzsimmons family fics, so I hope this one fits the bill.

Fitz pulled the door to the bar open, pausing for a moment before stepping inside and letting the door fall shut behind him. He looked around, furrowing his brow in concentration and mild confusion. The interior was sleek and modern, the lighting brighter than he’d expected but still warm and welcoming. Each wall was decorated with lemons, some photographs, some paintings, some sculptures. It was still early in the day and only a few tables by the window were occupied.

His eyes landed on the bar and the two people standing in front of it, talking.

He recognized him immediately, not just from the photos he’d seen on Jemma’s phone, but also because no matter how hard he found it to believe, he could see a part of himself in the slender, scruffy young man.

Deke dropped his head back, laughing out loud at something the other bloke—one of the waiters judging by the small embroidered lemon on his black shirt—had said. But in the periphery of his vision he must have caught sight of Fitz, his eyes suddenly focussing on him, his body freezing, his lips parting in surprise.

Fitz felt his heart beat quicker, his muscles tightening. He exhaled a sharp breath, pulled up his trousers, and walked up to the bar, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Just for one, sir?” Deke’s employee asked, ripping Fitz out of the daze in his mind.

Fitz wrinkled his forehead. “Oh. Um—” He pulled one hand out of his pocket, gesturing sideways at Deke. “I’m—”

“I’ll take care of him, Darren,” Deke interrupted, patting the waiter on the shoulder and smiling warmly.

Darren pursed his lips, lifting his chin in acknowledgement, before turning around, heading towards one of the occupied tables.

For a moment, they just stared at each other in silence, though Fitz’s mind screamed at him to say something, that it couldn’t possibly be that hard.

Eventually, Deke pressed his lips into a close-mouthed smile, rubbing his hands together before gesturing at the empty bar stools.

“So,” he announced, heading around the counter to take on the role of bartender, while Fitz hesitantly scooted onto one of the stools, nervously drumming on the smooth surface of the granite bar.

Deke grinned widely, fanning his arms wide. “Welcome to ‘When Life Gives You Lemons.’ What can I get you?”

Fitz looked back at him wide-eyed, his mouth open like a fish out of water. “Um.” He pressed his lips into a thin line, taking a slow deep breath, before exhaling sharply through his nose. He shrugged, cluelessly. “What do you recommend?”

Deke’s face lit up with excitement. He raised one finger in the air, before bending down to open one of the small fridges below the bar, reappearing moments later with a bottle containing a clear liquid. It wasn’t until Deke slid the bottle across the bar, still grinning with proud joy, and Fitz caught sight of the label that he recognized what his grandson had presented him with.

He’d never tried Zima but had certainly heard of its reputation. Not least when he had once curiously grabbed a pack while on a shopping spree with Hunter, who’d ripped the drinks out of his hand, placing them back on the shelf, sternly raising his finger in front of Fitz’s nose and barking “No!” as if Fitz had been a stray dog that needed training.

Fitz grabbed the bottle, hesitantly, staring at the silver, black and blue label until his eyes glazed over. He sighed, before bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a swig.

He let out a groan, grimacing in disgust when the clear liquid made contact with his taste buds. “Ugh. That’s bloody awful.”

He paused when he noticed Deke slumping his shoulders. “Why does everyone keep saying that? It’s delicious.”

Fitz stared for a moment at Deke, his sad green puppy eyes somehow making it impossible for him to come up with a comeback. Instead he just raised his eyebrows in silence, before taking another gulp from his drink, forcing a closed-lipped smile.

Deke leaned on the counter. “So, what brings you here?”

Fitz rested his forearms against the edge of the bar, cradling his Zima in his palm and absentmindedly scratching the label with his thumb nail, his eyes fixed on the task even though everything shimmered blurrily in front of him. He shrugged slightly, before glancing up. “Wanted to see what all the fuss is about.”

Deke straightened up, bright joy spreading across his face. “There’s fuss about my place?”

Fitz focussed back on the bottle in his hand. “Not really,” he admitted quietly.

“Then why are you here?” Deke asked, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “Shouldn’t you be off saving the world or something?”

“Been there, done that,” Fitz muttered under his breath, before letting out a deep sigh.

“Or, you know, spend time with your wife?” Deke added, and Fitz noticed through the periphery of his vision that his grandson was once again leaning on the bar, this time bringing his upper body closer, trying to gauge Fitz’s reaction.

Fitz scoffed, raising his eyebrows briefly. “We’re not married,” he mumbled as quietly as before.

Deke furrowed his brow. “Yeah, well, but you were. And you will be. So that’s just a technicality, really.”

Fitz looked up, shrugging slightly. “I don’t know.”

The wrinkles on Deke’s forehead grew deeper. “What’s going on? Something wrong with you two?”

Fitz inhaled slowly. “I am. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Uh, no.” Deke shook his head, pointing at Fitz. “ _You_ should be here. I mean—” He waved his hands to the side, before gesturing at himself “— _I_ shouldn’t be here—” He fanned one hand to the side, “—and _he_ shouldn’t have been here, but _you_ —” He pointed back at Fitz, “— _you_ should be here.”

“What?” Fitz squinted in confusion.

Deke looked side to side, before waving two fingers in the air, grabbing a napkin and a pen and placing the former on the bar in front of Fitz, beginning to draw various lines, exes and ohs as he continued to talk. “You see, _this_ is your timeline. You were born in it, grew up in it, lived your life, froze yourself to travel to the future, got rescued and now you’re still here—in this— _your_ timeline. Jemma and the others, started in this timeline like you, but then jumped ahead to the future, where they met Fitz from a previous loop, a previous timeline. He traveled back with them to this— _your_ timeline. Same with me. I came from the future to _this_ timeline.” He placed the pen firmly onto the napkin, pressing down with his palm on top of both to conclude his point. “So. _He_ shouldn’t have been here. _I_ shouldn’t be here. But _you_ —you should be here.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Fitz replied quietly, before taking another sip from his Zima.

Deke rolled his eyes, wiping the napkin and pen away with one hand and putting it to the side, lifting his shoulders to his ears. “Why did you come here?”

Fitz chewed on his lip, fear and uncertainty gnawing on his guts. He inhaled slowly, widening his eyes. “You’re proof,” he said quietly. “You’re proof that there was a time when we had a future, a life, a family—a time when I gave her everything she dreamed of, everything she deserves.” He blinked, feeling tears trying to push to the surface. “And I could really use that kind of proof right now.”

Deke looked back at him with sincerity. “What makes you think you can’t have that anymore?”

Fitz’s tongue slid back and forth across his lower lip. “All I bring her is pain.”

Deke scoffed, staring back at Fitz wide-eyed. “I’ve seen with my own two eyes that that’s not true.”

“That was him, not me.” Fitz took another swig from his drink.

“Um, he was you,” Deke countered, ticking his head to the side. “So, you can make her happy just like he did. You _do_ make her happy. You used to and you could again. All that seems to be standing in the way is you. Look, my mom always talked about you and Jemma like—like you were this epic love story that nobody could compare to. And judging by what I’ve seen and heard since—man, that was an understatement. And that wasn’t him or you or the other-timeline-you that became my grandfather. That was all of you, because all three versions are the same person.” He gestured at Fitz. “ _You!_ ” ”

Fitz sighed, focussing back on scratching the label of his Zima. “Everytime I think we’re one step closer, the universe—” He paused, shaking his head. “I don’t know how much more I should put her through. It’s not fair. Maybe she’d be better off—”

“Hey, look,” Deke interjected, “yeah, life’s a bitch, but—” He stopped, narrowing his eyes on Fitz as if contemplating carefully what to say next. “Look, my mom always said, ‘When life gives you lemons—’”

Fitz scoffed, swaying his head side to side. “Yeah, I know—make lemonade. It’s just that—”

“ _What?_ ” Deke interrupted, squinting in annoyed confusion and shaking his head vigorously. “No. You don’t make lemonade. Why would I do that? Lemonade requires additional ingredients. I mean— _sugar_?? Do you have any idea how many credits that would have cost you?”

Fitz raised his hands apologetically. “Alright, alright. When life gives you lemons—” He waved his hand toward Deke to give him an opening to finish the sentence as he had intended.

Deke bobbed his head in appreciation. “When life gives you lemons—” He began counting the points off on his fingers. “—sell half for credit, keep a quarter for yourself, and give the rest to someone you love, because they’re rich in vitamin C and plant compounds that’ll keep them healthy.” He gestured aimlessly in front of himself. “Unless you only have one lemon, then you basically just give the whole thing to the person you love.”

Fitz stared silently and wide-eyed at his grandson, letting his words sink in. “Your mum said that?”

Deke nodded in confirmation. “Yeah.”

Fitz let out a quiet chuckle. “Sounds like something Jemma would say.”

Deke shrugged. “Yeah, well, where do you think my mom got it from?”

Fitz scoffed, biting his lip. “So what are you getting at with that then?”

Deke leaned forward, resting his forearms against the granite countertop to be at Fitz’s eye level. “What I’m getting at is: who’s the person you want to give your lemons to?”

A smile ghosted across Fitz’s face reflexively as only one name came to mind. “I’d give her the whole world,” he whispered.

Deke shrugged, shaking his head. “She doesn’t need the world. She needs _you_. And that’s a lemon you have in your hands to give, Bobo.”

An amused puff of air escaped Fitz’s nostrils. “Bobo,” he remarked, furrowing his brow. “Jemma told me about that. Nana and Bobo. I mean, what language is that even?”

Deke’s eyes widened and he waved his finger in Fitz’s direction. “You know, I just remembered that the other day, when Mack was here.”

“Mack?” Fitz squinted in bewilderment.

Deke nodded. “Yeah, he stops by here sometimes, and—and he started talking about you, but he called you Turbo. And that’s when it clicked.” He paused, gesturing at Fitz. “You changed your name to Turbo in the Lighthouse, when all the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents took on new identities. But when I was little, I couldn’t pronounce that, so you became—”

“Bobo,” Fitz muttered under his breath.

Deke bobbed his head. “Yes, and Jemma called herself—”

“Anne,” Fitz realized, a half-smile appearing on his lips.

“Yeah,” Deke confirmed. “Which became—”

“Nana,” Fitz concluded, unable to keep from smiling as a picture of a future he’d never lived and yet longed for formed inside his mind.

“So, Bobo,” Deke pulled Fitz back into reality. “Do you love her?”

“Always,” Fitz replied without hesitation.

“Do you want to marry her?”

Fitz nodded silently.

Deke shrugged. “Well, guess what? She wants to marry you, too. She already did it once. And then she searched a needle in a universe haystack so she could do it again. To me that sends a pretty clear message.”

Fitz couldn’t help but chuckle.

Deke fanned his arms out. “So what if life’s complicated? So what if life throws you a curveball or ten? She’ll always be the person you want to give your lemons to. And you’re hers. And that’s a simple truth. It’s in your hands. Not the universe’s.”

Fitz stared in silent admiration at the young man in front of him, letting his words sink in. “Maybe you’re right.”

Deke shrugged. “Yeah, I’m right. Just like I was right with this whole multiverse theory.”

Fitz laughed quietly, ticking his head to the side. “Fair enough.”

Deke grinned back at him proudly, before letting out a deep sigh. “Look. How about you go home, to your lemon girl, and then you bring her back here for a nice dinner and pop the important—yet rhetorical—question?”

Fitz raised his eyebrows, contemplating Deke’s suggestion. He clicked his tongue, bit his lower lip, before bringing his bottle of Zima to his lips, emptying the rest of its contents. He put the bottle back on the counter, executing a quiet drumroll on the bar, before looking expectantly back at his grandson. “I’m going to have to see a menu, to figure out if this place is worth taking her to.”

Deke’s lips pulled into a wide, confident smirk, as he reached to the side for a menu without losing eye contact with Fitz. He slowly slid the leather-clad booklet in front of Fitz. “The salmon’s her favorite,” he remarked cockily. “Goes well with the Chardonnay.”

One corner or Fitz’s mouth ticked up, as he grabbed the menu and opened it. He glanced up at his grandson, who looked expectantly back at him.

Fitz lifted his chin in the direction of his empty bottle of Zima. “Can I have another one of those while I study this?”

Deke’s lips pulled wide. “Coming right up, Bobo.”


End file.
